Published by Douglas Messerli, the World Cinema Review features full-length reviews on film from the beginning of the industry to the present day, but the primary focus is on films of intelligence and cinematic quality, with an eye to exposing its readers to the best works in international film history.

Friday, August 5, 2016

Mark Thiedeman | Last Summer

the rhino and the bird

by
Douglas Messerli

Mark
Thiedeman (writer and director) Last
Summer / 2013

By
coincidence (there’s that word again; perhaps I mean, “by accidental
association”) I watched Mark Thiedeman’s directorial debut, Last Summer of 2013, on the very day I
finished reading Arnold Wesker’s working-class drama Roots, and I was struck by their similarities.

Like Wesker’s play, Thiedeman’s movie
deals with class differences—in this case not “social” ones, but intellectual
differences, which will surely later lead to social ones. Two boys, Luke
(Samuel Pettit) and Jonah (Sean Rose) have been close friends since they were
4, and over the years have become gay lovers, a relationship their Southern
Arkansas community has seemed to have assimilated as easily, as Hollywood Reporter Stephen Farber
describes it, as Native American communities embraced their gay shamans. And,
in this sense, Thiedeman’s film is not really a gay film as much as it is a
story about two people in love who must come to terms that they are not really
good for one another.

Jonah, as Luke quickly makes clear in
the movie’s first scene where he is seen struggling through summer school, is
gifted, while Luke—excellent in sports and other kinds of thinking—is
intellectually challenged. His companion reads Emily Dickinson, Joseph Conrad,
and Flannery O’Connor, is excellent in math, and plays Shubert on the piano,
while Luke can merely offer some baseball tips to Jonah. This film languidly
recounts their last few weeks together, as Jonah prepares to go off to college.

Director Thiedeman represents their
distress and fears not via dialogue or dramatic interchanges as in Roots, but primarily with aesthetically
beautiful images, as if like Jonah, he were playing the role of a Southern
photographer similar to William Christenberry or Walker Evans, his camera
hovering over the boys’ entangled sneakers, the wood of rotting buildings,
rain-splashed panes of glass, worrisome lips, and fields of long grass. And
yes, this does have the feeling, at moments, of a Terrence Malick film, but
fortunately without Malick’s pretentiousness. Thiedeman seems more interested
in simple “artfulness” than in the grand sentiments and spiritual awakenings of
Malick’s films.

In fact, this film, once it’s expressed
its simple premise, almost seems to lose interest in its characters, as it
shifts to the pastoral world which Jonah will soon lose (as Luke puts it,
“He’ll find other people who are much more interesting than me; and they will
love him.”) and to which Luke will be doomed. Some people, as Luke once again
perceives, feel so comfortable in once place they can’t imagine leaving, and
others feel trapped in the exact same environment.

Yet, like Wesker’s Beatie, Luke knows
he’s being left behind in a culture in which he will have no significant
future, just like his own parents and others who move in and out of Thiedeman’s
frame. If this world is paradise, it is a very boring one, which challenges no
one and in which very little happens.

Luke’s father defines love, in part, as
“forgiving someone for being different,” and this is precisely what this young
teenager does, refusing to ask Jonah, as Jonah challenges him, to stay. Yet if
Luke were to demand that Jonah not move on, it would mean selfishness instead
of the love he truly feels for his friend.

Early in the film, Luke—who despite his
intellectual inabilities, seems always to be the one who best comprehends the
emotional truths of this film—describes his intense relationship with Jonah as
being, metaphorically speaking, like a bird on the back of a rhino. The bird,
which helps the rhino to survive his daily existence, must eventually fly away,
while the larger beast remains to wallow in the mud.

Yes, Thiedeman’s film, like Wesker’s
drama, is a minor one; but I’d argue it nonetheless has more to say than
hundreds of other grand love dramas. These two boys demonstrate their love
through permitting the inevitable differences of their own beings. They
sacrifice their love in order to give it as a gift in order to let each other
survive in their natural identities. And in that act, it is film of incredible
faith.